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Entry tags:
bsg ficlet, no title, for twelvecolonies' snow challenge, Caprica/Gaius
disclaimer: not mine
rating: pg
length: under 300
pairing: Caprica/Gaius
set: post-series
notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
twelvecolonies 'snow' ficlet challenge. Posted for posterity and all that.
I know farming wasn't as easy to say when it was so cold your fingers hurt. Gaius found, though, that he liked to stand just inside the doorway of the barn (built with the help of the entire settlement in something Caprica had wryly called 'community spirit') and stare out at the fields that lay fallow under the blanket of snow.
Winter had come with many warnings, but even he was a little surprised at the way the cold stole his breath away (and Caprica's cheeks were always cherry red, her eyes dancing with laughter).
Their first crops were now harvested (some would never be usable as anything other than fodder for the goat-like thing one of the Twos had traded the natives for, earlier in the year), and while Gaius suspected the coming months would be hard, he still had hope.
Or perhaps it was Caprica's limitless capacity for hope that inspired his own. She would stand in the midst of their tiny little cabin and build pictures with words; of the cities they would raise one day, the legacy they were leaving for their descendents.
Gaius wasn't exactly sanguine about the thought of descendents, even though they hadn't been blessed in any such way. He thought, perhaps, that God was waiting for the right moment.
With moonlight glittering on the snow into the distant hills, he thought perhaps he was resigned to the idea. In ten years, would there be children running across the snow with her golden curls and his eyes? Maybe he could live with that; if they weren't too loud.
rating: pg
length: under 300
pairing: Caprica/Gaius
set: post-series
notes: written for
twelvecolonies 'snow' ficlet challenge. Posted for posterity and all that.I know farming wasn't as easy to say when it was so cold your fingers hurt. Gaius found, though, that he liked to stand just inside the doorway of the barn (built with the help of the entire settlement in something Caprica had wryly called 'community spirit') and stare out at the fields that lay fallow under the blanket of snow.
Winter had come with many warnings, but even he was a little surprised at the way the cold stole his breath away (and Caprica's cheeks were always cherry red, her eyes dancing with laughter).
Their first crops were now harvested (some would never be usable as anything other than fodder for the goat-like thing one of the Twos had traded the natives for, earlier in the year), and while Gaius suspected the coming months would be hard, he still had hope.
Or perhaps it was Caprica's limitless capacity for hope that inspired his own. She would stand in the midst of their tiny little cabin and build pictures with words; of the cities they would raise one day, the legacy they were leaving for their descendents.
Gaius wasn't exactly sanguine about the thought of descendents, even though they hadn't been blessed in any such way. He thought, perhaps, that God was waiting for the right moment.
With moonlight glittering on the snow into the distant hills, he thought perhaps he was resigned to the idea. In ten years, would there be children running across the snow with her golden curls and his eyes? Maybe he could live with that; if they weren't too loud.
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